


Vdokhnoveniye and Vodka (but not really)

by purplenighttime



Series: nowhere near perfect [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplenighttime/pseuds/purplenighttime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an ex-Russian assassin, Natasha is surprisingly good at being caring and understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vdokhnoveniye and Vodka (but not really)

**Author's Note:**

> Another fix exploring Clint and Natasha's relationship.

He makes it through the battle - they're calling it the Battle of Midtown, now, in the papers - mostly on sheer adrenaline. It's easier to focus on the methodical way he pulls an arrow back and looses it than it is to think about _how many_. 

It isn't until he and Natasha are in some tiny hotel in Washington that he starts to lose it. 

The Avengers - somehow, the name had stuck - had parted ways after the battle, because, like Steve said, they all needed some space. Fury had even been in a good enough mood to give him and Natasha a week off. 

Natasha drives them down to DC, where she checks them into the hotel. "I've been here - before SHIELD," she says when he asks her how she knows about the place. 

He wonders if her target had been a politician, and if anyone had ever suspected it was anything other than an accident. 

That night they sit in bed together, his arms around her as they watch some cheesy action movie - neither of them can stand romantic comedies. Clint feels almost _all right_ as he dozes off. 

He jerks awake in the middle of the night, sweating and breathing heavily, the screams of the people in Germany echoing in his ears. 

Tasha's awake in a second, pulling a knife from under her pillow. When she realizes it's only him, she tosses the knife on the nightstand and takes Clint's hand in her own. 

"It was a nightmare," she says calmly. 

He sighs, pulling his hand out of hers to rub his forehead. "It was Lima all over again, Tasha. In Stuttgart. Except I-" 

"Don't." Her voice is stronger now, and he feels her cool hands on either side of his head, turning him to look at her. 

"Don't do that to yourself, Clint."

He closes his eyes, sighing, and nods.

* * *

Somehow he makes it through the rest of the night without another nightmare, though when he wakes up the bed is empty. Rolling out of bed, he checks the bathroom. "Natasha?" 

No answer. 

He supposes it's a good sign that Natasha trusts him enough to leave him alone. Clint isn't sure if he'd trust himself not to run off and start another invasion of the SHIELD headquarters. 

He checks the clock. 8:47. It's been forty-one hours and twenty-two minutes since he woke up as himself, and he still isn't entirely convinced that Loki's voice is going to invade his mind again and start naming targets. 

Clint stares into the mirror; dark brown eyes, not pale blue ones, meet his gaze. He lets out a breath and splashes water on his face. 

"Get ahold of yourself, Barton," he tells himself. "You've been through worse shit before." 

He hears the door open, and Natasha calls, "It's me," from the other room. 

She walks into the bedroom carrying a takeout container and a few plastic bags. "I got pancakes with strawberry syrup," she says, placing the container on the bed and rummaging through the bags. "There was actually a liquor store open, so I picked up a six-pack. They didn't have any Babaevsky, but they did have Kalev. I tried it when I was undercover in Pärnu, and it's pretty close, except no raisins." 

Clint looks at her, strangely touched, although he does have to wonder how she knew that he liked strawberry sauce with his pancakes. 

She tosses him a plastic fork. "It's easier to remember who you are if you're surrounded by things that you associate with your personality." 

He has to admit she probably knows what she's doing, since she's been brainwashed before. And besides, the pancakes smell delicious. He digs in, giving her a bite off his fork when she sits back against the headboard next to him. 

They sit in silence for a minute before she flicks on the TV, flipping through channels until she settles on the same action movie from the night before. 

Her tone is light when she says, "There's no way he could have made that shot." 

Clint grins because it's something the two of them sit and do together on the few times that both of them aren't on an assignment. They sit on the sofa and watch spy movies, or action movies, and point out everything that's wrong with them. 

A car explodes on screen. "Cars do not explode like that," he says disdainfully. 

Natasha snorts. "They didn't even get the physics right." 

When he finishes the pancakes, she moves closer to him, putting her feet in his lap. They criticize the movie good-naturally until the villain starts some kind of machine that glows bright blue and shoots a beam of light into the sky. 

Suddenly, Clint is back at the SHIELD base, seeing Loki appear for the first time. He takes a deep breath, reaching for his bow - he can shoot this guy, straight and simple - but it isn't where it should be. 

"Clint." 

Natasha is holding his hand for some reason, and he pulls it away as he turns to look for his bow. 

"Clint, look at me. You're not there." 

Clint blinks, and he's back in the hotel room, Natasha kneeling over him. The TV is off, the control in her hand.  Her eyes are worried, though her voice betrays no emotion when she asks, "Are you with me?" 

Running his hands through his hair, he breathes in deeply, taking in the smell of Natasha's perfume. "Yeah," he says. 

She leans back, moving to sit next to him again. "Good." 

"I was so close," he says. "If I could have used my bow, maybe he wouldn't have gotten to me." 

There's the rustle of paper, and she hands him half a chocolate bar. "Sugar helps," she says. 

He falls asleep sometime in the afternoon, because he's worn out and he honestly can't remember actually sleeping when he was with Loki. 

The clock reads 10:05 when he wakes up again, this time the security footage of Coulson's death playing on repeat. When he blinks, the image appears again, as though it's branded into his eyelids. 

Natasha is asleep next to him, and he's careful not to wake her as he rolls out of bed and leans against the window, staring out at the bright lights of the city. 

He's not sure how long he stays like that before two arms wrap around his waist, and Natasha rests the side of her head against his back. "You okay?" she asks. 

"No," he says, then continues, "He got Coulson because of me. Because I was stupid enough to let myself get compromied, stupid enough to let Loki in my head and now he's fucking _dead_ because of it." 

"I know," she says, and those two words mean more to him than any words of comfort or sympathy. 

The weight of her on his back disappears, and he hears the soft padding of her feet as she goes to the minifridge. He turns when she rejoins him at the window and hands him a bottle. 

He takes a swig, then asks, "How did you do it?" 

Because he knows what it feels like, now, to have someone else in your head but still be aware of every single thing you're doing. And she hadn't had anyone to hit her in the head.  

She sips her own beer and grimaces, and it means that much more to Clint because even though she hates beer it's a show of solidarity. There's a long moment before she answers. 

"Lots of Vdokhnoveniye and vodka," she says. 

They both know it's a lie, but he doesn't say anything. He hadn't even expected that much, anyway. 

"Come back to bed?" she asks, turning away from the window. 

He knows what she's doing as he watches her ass, barely covered by the long shirt she's wearing. He doesn't care, though. 

It surprises him when she doesn't actually go for his pants once he's in bed, instead curling against his side and trailing searing kisses across his shoulder. He laces his fingers through her silky hair and tilts her head up so he can kiss her, gently, on the lips. She chuckles throatily, and rests her head on his shoulder. 

"Thank you, Tasha," he says.

Her voice is sure when she answers, "You'd have done the same for me."

**Author's Note:**

> Babaevsky and Vdokhnoveniye are actual Russian chocolates. Kalev is an Estonian chocolate company, and Pärnu is a city there. 


End file.
